


Clean Up His Face

by EverythingCanadian



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Facial Shaving, Hint at a redemption arc, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Past Abuse, Redemption, Touch-Starved, his dad is a piece of work, mention of sexual and physical abuse, second chapter has hints of Micah's dad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-09
Updated: 2020-01-19
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:35:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,422
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22186444
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EverythingCanadian/pseuds/EverythingCanadian
Summary: Micah leans back for a straight razor shave as Arthur has the time to give the camp a good shave clinic the entire day at Horseshoe Overlook. Micah may need a little more than a shave. A shoulder to lean on was needed.Update: the sexual abuse is mentioned once, and it is not by or towards any main character.
Relationships: Micah Bell/Arthur Morgan
Comments: 56
Kudos: 65





	1. The Shave

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote an ask to un-official-artist on tumblr:  
> Oh. Arthur eventually doing a sort of shaving clinic one day because he needs to teach these fucks. And he also just loves shaving people, finds it relaxing and a team building process. He even voluntarily shaves Micah. Watches those dangerous eyes close halfway through Arthur doing his throat, a soft moan coming out. And arthur knows what touch starvation is, so hes gentle even if hes not fond of Micah. Charles was happy that Arthur didnt kill the man outright.

Micah has shaved himself and has had barbers shave him but he’s never really had someone else do it for him with less of a clinical touch.

He feels tense as he lays back against the wood table, sitting stiff on the stool. Arthur has cleaned Micah’s blade, stropped it, and now he's got the lather and brush going in the shaving soap tin. It smells like mint and violet snowdrops and Micah sniffs it as Arthur holds it towards him.

“Just so you know I ain’t poisoning ya. I wouldn't ruin this soap. ‘S expensive” Arthur grumbles.

Micah nods, watching with wary eyes as Arthur sets down the foamy lather and gets a warm wet cloth out of the basin of water on the ground. He uses it to give Micah a soft wash against his lower face, cleaning grime, dirt, and blood off, even some of the breakfast Micah missed cleaning that morning. Arthur rinses it before going once more over the roughened skin.

“Tilt your head back now Bell, this is one thing I take pride in.”

“Of course you would. Touchin' men.” Micah can't help but send out barbs.

“Watch it.” Arthur warns as he gathers lather on the brush. “Mouth closed now.”

Micah huffs, smirking a little. He tips his head back but his eyes stay on Arthur as the man gently brushes the lather on his face. Careful of the mustache Micah is known for.

“I’m gonna clean it up a little too, get you fresh lookin’. Well as fresh as can be.” Arthur grins down at Micah as the man keeps his mouth closed under the lather.

Micah watches as Arthur works, soaping him up and bringing out the straight razor that’s freshly sharpened. A towel is thrown over Arthur’s shoulder to wipe it off but other than that Micah is waiting tensely for the feel of metal on his skin. When it comes Micah doesn't expect the gentleness of Arthur’s hands on his jaw, pulling his skin taut and moving his head slowly.

Arthur works silently with camp milling about them both. Micah eventually relaxes into the shave, sighing quietly and Arthur feels the breath from Micah’s nose on his fingers, hot and shaky. Arthur moves to the other side when he was done with the one cheek. He clears his throat and Micah looks at him with a hazy gaze.

“I need you to uh- let me step between your legs. Can't get the other side properly.” Arthur has had his other ‘clients’ do so automatically as they’ve had this before, a fresh relaxing shave. Taken care of by sure hands.

Micah just grunts lightly while letting his legs spread apart farther, lazily watching as Arthur steps with one leg between Micah’s thighs and the other on the outside yet still touching each other. Arthur was effectively straddling Micah’s thigh by the knee. Unconsciously, Micah relaxes further, hearing the scrape of the metal over skin, the light sound of hair being cut close. He closes his eyes with something akin to a breathy moan as Arthur gently handles his jaw, turning and pulling as needed on scruffy skin.

Micah has never had this kind of intimacy with anyone before let alone a man. A man he's despised and been jealous of since day one. But Arthur is patient with him, gentle, caring even as he scrapes and wipes. Cleans the excess soap off with the dry towel on his shoulder, then a warm damp cloth. It’s then that Micah looks slowly up at Arthur cleaning his face after round one.

Arthur smiles a little. “I ain’t done yet. Still got your neck to shave, then your mustache to clean the edges. I ain’t gonna slit your throat Micah, I’ve only nicked one person today and that was myself. At night maybe I will. But under a razor, never.” Arthur caresses Micah’s cheeks with the back of his hand to make sure he hasn’t left any spots unclean.

Then Arthur turns his hand to lightly stroke over Micah's jaw, watching those murky eyes close at the heat, at such a human touch that doesn't harm him or tell him he’s paying for a service. It’s feathery even with such calloused hands, such murder stained hands. Micah presses a little into the touch, chases the feeling that’s both addictive and unbearable.

Arthur watches as tears build under blond lashes, watches Micah’s cheeks grow ruddy and blotchy as the blond holds in what he’s kept close to his ribs most of his life. “Hey now,” Arthur whispers, close to purring, “don’t go crying just yet. Need to finish up my work and then we can go sit in your tent.” The mention of  _ we  _ has Micah looking up at Arthur’s eyes, looking for any joke or punch line. Arthur steps from between Micah’s legs, getting back to what he was doing, “You need to have someone there right now. I ain’t gonna tell no one. I know what it’s like, Micah, I’ve been there.” Arthur grabs the soap again, gets a little water in it and gets it foaming once more. “Close your mouth again.” Arthur lightly touches a crooked knuckle to Micah’s chin, brush in hand over the soap tin as he tilt’s Micah’s head back.

Micah snaps his mouth shut, slams his eyes closed to blink away stinging tears. He shudders with the next coverage over his neck. He hears the tin and brush be set down again and the slight drag of metal and bone handle over wood as Arthur picks the straight razor back up. Feeling Arthur’s warm hand gently pressing his head back at his forehead. This time Micah can feel the press of Arthur’s leg against his thigh, presses right back to seek touch. Something positive for once.

“Relax Micah, let go for once and enjoy this.” Arthur murmurs.


	2. Micah's Redemption

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur comforts a hysterical Micah, hearing about the man's past and giving a bargain that Micah can take or refuse later. For now Arthur is okay with helping Micah.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The sexual abuse is by Micah's dad towards Micah's sister. Physical abuse is mentioned. Pretty much this is Micah's breakdown.

When Arthur was done he put another warm and wrung out cloth on Micah’s jaw and cheeks, just folded it in half and laid it over clean and smooth skin. He let Micah lay back for a bit as he washed the tools and dumped the basin of water into the grass after washing his brush and Micah’s straight razor. 

The blond had his eyes closed, breathing deeply, and listening to Arthur move around next to the table as he cleaned up. Micah let himself float in peace under the heat of the damp cloth, soaking up the afternoon sun as his mind calmed down. Arthur had touched him again after shaving his jaw, checking for stray hairs or missed patches. Even around Micah’s mustache Arthur was careful with the razor. Now Micah was shaved clean and had his facial hair shaped cleanly. It was nice to have that done with such focus and care. 

The cooling cloth was lifted off Micah’s face, causing Micah to open his eyes slowly. Arthur could see the slightly dazed look in Micah’s eyes as he came into the present, slowly getting his mind in order. “Hey there.” Arthur smiled with one side of his mouth, eyes warm like the sunny sky. “Still want me to join ya in your tent?” Arthur murmured. He tossed the damp cloth onto the pile of used cloths and towels on the table. 

It took a moment for Micah to sit up slowly, grunting in effort from using his stomach muscles after such a relaxing shave. He was quiet as he let the question sit in his thoughts before slowly nodding, giving two small nods.

Arthur hummed softly before standing close enough to give Micah a hand up off the stool. Both grunted in effort and Micah used Arthur as a crutch for the moment. He didn’t mind as Micah needed the positive contact right then. “C’mon big guy.” Arthur murmured, letting Micah lead them both to the smaller tent on the outer rim of camp. Even if Micah talked a big game his personal quarters weren’t as spectacular. 

As Micah ducked into the tent, having pitched it himself and ending up with it lower than some of the others. However that wasn't the shocking part to Arthur. The fact that the tent had a small chest in the back wall, a sleeping roll, and a small canvas bag for tools and gear was what surprised Arthur, nothing of real note was in Micah's tent. 

When Micah looked at Arthur after slowly kneeling on his bed roll it gave a pang in Arthur's chest. Micah may be money greedy, but this look of meager valuables gave a greater explanation than anything else anyone had come up with. The flash leather jacket may have been the most expensive thing Micah owned after his dual guns. Even then those revolvers weren't too pricey as compared to some of the equipment the gang carried. Nothing was really personal either, no touches that screamed of Micah. Nothing like Hosea's books or Lenny's little stash of pencils he's begun to collect for writing. Nothing. It aches deep in Arthur to know that anyone at camp is this- sterile in their own quarters, shared or not. 

Micah began to speak, "I-it ain't much-" but he lost his words as he eventually sat on his ass, peeling his boots off to reveal one sock with a hole in the arch, the other had some mending at the toes. "Its shelter." He stated instead, putting his boots to the side by the bag. 

Arthur followed what Micah did, sitting down and yanking his own boots off, sitting cross-legged with his jean clad knee touching Micah's. It was silent between them, hearing each other's soft breaths as camp moved around them, voices distinct but indecipherable. "I don't rightly know what you need here Micah, but I do know you need someone to at least have sit with you. If it's quiet you want we can do that. Just know that I can do anything you need m-" he was cut off.

Micah had leaned in, pressed his forehead to Arthur's shoulder, and let a shuddering breath out as quietly as he could. That in itself was a step forward to Arthur. He knew what silent crying was, had done it more than he'd like to think about, and he'd reckon Micah had done the same thing. 

Arthur brought his hand from resting between his thighs, where his legs left a gap down to the bed roll, letting it shift to just behind Micah and hover at his back. The soft broken word of "please" had Arthur gripping Micah's side tightly and hauling the blond in close to his own side, semi-tucking the man into his body. 

It broke his heart to hear this. A man he had fought with constantly, a man who had every bone in his body be racist, sexist, and elitist, a man who was ultimately the worst decision Dutch had made, turned out to be broken. And Arthur figured it wasn't just touch starvation that had Micah torn up like this, he had an idea that more had to be going on. An enemy who had his full wits about him wouldn't break like this. 

Micah shivered hard in Arthur's hold, let out a hiccup before trying to get a hold on his breathing, fight back his sobs. The labored breathing Arthur heard was being interrupted by Micah's own self.

"Don't, it ain't healthy to keep it locked up." Arthur murmured, he squeezed his hold, "Why do you think I have a journal with me all the time. It ain't just for catalogin' the wildlife." Arthur sighed heavily, letting the stream of hot air ruffle Micah's hair. His mind wandered to all the times Micah seemed far away in his own mind while at camp. It was a few times too often not to notice, and yet Arthur, and maybe the others, decided to turn away from that frozen moment of a plea for help. 

Micah's dam broke fully when he heard Arthur admit to even letting himself feel. Arthur winced at the loud and wrecked sound of a sob that came from the ruthless man in his hold. The squeaks, and the sniffling, and the hard staccato wails had Arthur finally pulling away only to push and tug Micah onto his back, laying him out on the bed roll. 

"Lay down, I'm right here." Arthur voiced over the childlike crying, big fat tears and runny snot, saliva at the corners of Micah's mouth. 

Micah brought his knees up, having his arms curl in and his hand go into his dirty hair and grip, creating a ball to hold himself together. Arthur had seen Bill do something like this a few times, usually after a nightmare that left him numb and lost for a day or two. It was never this bad. He did know that right now Micah needed someone to just be there with him so Arthur scooted up the bed roll to be behind Micah. 

He laid down with his chest pressed right against Micah's back, feeling the heat rolling off Micah's back through their shirts and union suits. He wrapped an arm around Micah's ribs, tugging the man back into a firm tuck against Arthur. Arthur felt the full body shudders and the harsh inhales. Micah tore one arm from covering his face to reach down and grip Arthur's wrist, squeezing firmly and not letting go. Curling around Micah was what Arthur did to keep the man from shaking apart on the ground.

Neither of them cared about camp at that moment, only that Micah was opening a valve that had rusted shut years ago and was just now being released. The pressure of what Arthur assumed to be years of swallowing everything besides greed, anger, and pride was coming out whether Micah wanted it to or not. 

Arthur hummed softly, letting the buzz of his hums settle along Micah's back and thighs, the rumble of his low voice had soothed a few of the gang over the years. And now Micah needed it too. Arthur rubbed his thumb over the patch of chest he could reach as Micah held his arm hostage. "I've got you Micah, I'm here." Arthur murmured right by Micah's ear, soothing him even further.

It was like that for a good half hour or so, Micah crying his body hoarse and exhausted from everything. Arthur didn't know how long it had been, only that Micah needed him. 

When Micah's cries calmed down Arthur spoke among the hiccoughs and sniffling. "Wanna talk about it? I ain't here to judge you, not now." Arthur pressed his forehead to the back of Micah's head, letting his hot breath rush over Micah's neck. 

Arthur thought the blond had fallen asleep when he answered. "Started with my daddy, everything sorta built from there. Not even my momma coulda done nothing. He was a- some of the men we come across are a lot like him. A racist, a man who knows what's best, a son-of-a-bitch that took what he thought he was owed." Micah let his grip on Arthur's now numb wrist go. "Beat me, my brother, my sister- hell my sister didn't make it out of there- fell with child from him. It was a mess. Slit his throat the night I left. My momma and my sister were buried in the town church yard, not much else I can say. Don't know what happened to my brother- think he may be out there. Livin." Micah laughed sadly, breath hitching. "I'm here, runnin from a past that- hell Morgan, I've turned into him. I  _ am _ him now. I tried to be somethin else but- I'm not. I ended up becomin him." Micah swallowed thickly.

Arthur kept quiet, he couldn't say anything to that. Micah was right in ways. The only thing that Micah was wrong about was that he wasn’t his Daddy at all, he had time and people that could get him away from those ways. Arthur didn’t say that just yet, let Micah finally relax in his hold, tears all cried out and the pressure of everything released from behind solid walls. For now Arthur held a broken man that would be ready to begin repairs on his mind, heart, and body. 

Micah didn’t say anything else, but he did wiggle out of Arthur’s hold; “Gonna piss, be right back.” Micah’s voice was raw, stripped, and sounded sore. He didn’t look at anyone as he walked out of camp and down the hill from the chicken coop. He was given a wide berth by the others as he left, and when he came back, camp was back to being noisy. 

Arthur had moved onto his back, one arm under his head and the other over his belly, eyes closed under the canvas walls and ceiling. He cracked one eye open and saw the mess that Micah was, eyes red, puffy, and sore, his cheeks tear stained with one side spit and snot crusted, his nose was red as coals burning, and his entire face seemed drained. But Arthur patted his chest as Micah laid down again. A small signal for the blond to rest his head on Arthur’s chest, listen to his heart beat. 

His heart was steady and sturdy under Micah’s ear, the slow rise and fall of his chest was rocking Micah to a dead sleep. “Whatever you think you’ll turn out to be, we can fix it now. As I said before, you ain’t family, but we can help make you a part of it. You just need to be willing to change. Learn and unlearn. Maybe re-learn some things. You ain't your Daddy, Micah, you don’t need to be him now. You don’t need to be Micah Bell the Third, you can be Micah van der Linde or hell Micah whatever you come up with. You don’t need to keep your ties to your parents or family line. You can have us.” Arthur rubs Micah’s back in small yet slow circles, lulling the man to sleep. 

The long intake of breath was followed by a small “I- I’d like that, a lot.” before a hot wet patch formed where Micah’s cheek pressed to Arthur’s chest. 

Arthur sighed. “Hey now. No need to- well, never mind. Let it out Micah, you can think on your answer. Get some sleep in before supper. I’ll be right here when you wake up.” He kept rubbing slowly as he heard Micah drift off on his chest, the dark circles that lived under Micah’s eyes finally getting the rest they need, Micah would be sore later, but for now he needed the afternoon nap.

Arthur could wonder how to help later, how the gang would react later. Everything could be done after Micah woke up and made his decision. Now sounded like a good time for a short nap of his own as Micah slept off his crying. 


	3. Human Touch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Micah and Arthur wake from their nap to have a serious conversation about how to move forward

Micah felt like his entire body was being drawn and quartered. His eyes hurt so much. His cheek, ear, and the one side of his face was crusted with tears, spit, snot all dried up from crying. 

His body ached something fierce as he slowly got his bearings, opening his sandpaper eyes and seeing the flickering of fire light on the side of his tent along with the golden and purple of sunset. Arthur was still there, a hand in Micah's blond hair, tugging softly and stroking slowly. 

It was only a moment before Arthur made a small sound. "Y'awake Micah?" His own voice was gravel as he kept it low against Micah's headache. 

"Yeah." Micah grunted, gingerly pushing himself up off Arthur's chest. The loss of that safe feeling caused a small sad sound to emanate from Micah's throat. "Do y'know how long we slept?" 

Arthur hummed, "A fair few hours. Hosea had come in a few minutes ago to wake me and check on us." Arthur watched Micah frown. He knew what Micah had said about Hosea, his feelings towards the older man. "Wanted to let us know its grilled chicken, and boiled carrots and cabbage."

Micah nodded, wincing at the feeling of cotton and lead moving in his head. Arthur sat up next to Micah, patted his shoulder. "I- I think I want to start tonight." Micah whispered as he looked at the tent flaps tied together. He noticed the bowl of water and cloth inside it at the front pole. 

"He also brought something to clean your face with, sooth your eyes. Does the same with all of us after a bad turn like this." Arthur crawls over to gather the bowl, coming back to sit where he was and put the bowl down to wring out the cloth. "Eyes closed then." 

"I can do it myself cowpoke." Micah lashed. His already cracked open heart trying desperately to mend back to something akin to normalcy. He looks down at where Arthur is holding the hole ridden cloth. His body stiffens at his words, frown growing deeper. "I- I can-"

"I know you can," Arthur's voice is level, quiet, it's soothing to Micah's conflictions. "I want to do this for you, clean you up. Get you feeling fresh like earlier." Arthur reaches for Micah's hand with a wet and empty one. "I need you to trust me here. Think of this as part of the process in a way. A clean slate like most of us had when we got picked up by the gang. This is me cleanin your slate, Micah." 

Micah didn't hesitate at that, took Arthur's hand with a sure and tight grip as they clasped together. He slammed his eyes shut and huffed through his nose in heaves. He was frightened Arthur knew that, could see all the signs that someone like Micah has when they finally seek help. The goosebumps rise on Micah's forearms where his sleeves are unbuttoned and rolled up. 

"Hosea's already thought of this too, if he brought this here he's already accepted that you need help, that we can fix this and undo what's been done to you." Arthur watched as Micah gasped sharply, face going from fear to letting go as the cold and damp cloth hit his temple.

Arthur dragged the cloth in small scrubbing circles to clear the crusted tears and spit from the skin. Micah hiccupped and squeezed Arthur's hand tight when Arthur scrubbed a bit rougher at his cheek and ear, clearing away dried snot and drool. Micah knew he looked a mess from earlier, could feel it. "Can't undo all of it, but we can soften the blows that were dealt to you. Can try to put back the pieces that your Daddy took from you." Arthur rinsed the cloth and took his hand back from Micah. Micah's eyes opened in slits, watching. "Can try to repair the damage done and the sufferin you saw. Can't bring back the dead but we can help you mourn if you want." Arthur did one more pass of the cloth over Micah's face, cleaning away sleep in his eyes and the general feeling of tightness from crying. "You just need to start trustin us. All of us. Charles, Lenny, Javier, Tilly, all of us. If you can't do that then we can't help you with this." Arthur pointed to Micahs forehead. "Family here goes both ways. Got it?" Arthur stared hard at Micah's hard and cold eyes, seeing the eyes of a killer, of a bad man. But he also saw a need for redemption in them and the lines in his face. 

Micah took the cloth from Arthur's hand and put it in the bowl, stretching to set it aside onto the hard ground beside him. Sitting up again he turned fully to Arthur, facing him straight. "I can't do it on my own, I need a good swift kick every so often." He reached for Arthur's cold and damp hands, bringing them to his face and holding them against his smooth cheeks. His breath hitched when Arthur took the idea and let his thumbs rub soothing lines under Micah's eyes. He shivered at the feeling of another human being gentle to him. He held Arthur's wrists in his hands and squeezes lightly in thanks. "Forgive my words but, I need a plan to follow for this. I don't even know where to begin."

Arthur smiled a little, happy at getting this man to finally,  _ finally, _ break into something malleable, into someone who wants help rather than refuses everything but praise. "We can do that. _ I _ can do that." Arthur moved his palms and threaded his hands into Micah's hair, gently massaging his scalp. The unabashed moan from Micah startled them both but Arthur kept going. "After supper and some work we can sleep in my tent, I got a bigger cut since I sliced the last one with my spurs by drunken accident. Bunk with me for a while if you need." Arthur leaned in and gave Micah a soft kiss, just a press of lips and it was a whimper that sounded between them. "Give you some actual contact to people than what you've been getting. C'mon now, let's get some grub and sit by the fire."


	4. Saint Denis Bank

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alright here's a bonus.   
> Months later (I play the game slow okay?! So its months in game to me) Micah has been getting better, his and Arthur's relationship has gotten better and more romantic than before. This is a take on what I think would have happened differently.

Arthur felt his skin crawl as he sat in his saddle, it was the same feeling he felt just before the Rhodes job.

Before Bill spotted a man on the roof of the general store and another on the roof of the gunsmith. Sean nearly lost his life but it was as if something had changed as Sean ran and hit the deck. 

Now it was as they were scouting the bank in Saint Denis. His gut was rolling, his mind racing and he had a headache throbbing behind his eyes and by his temples. Dutch and Tilly were in the bank just looking around and "opening up" an account for Tilly under some odd name. But as Arthur looked around the area his body felt tight. 

Micah's horse, Baylock, walked up next to Buell, snorting lightly. Micah himself grunting, "I don't like the feeling I'm getting." His new felt hat was a forest green colour, the top flat like a rancher's hat, but the brim was wide like a Big Valley. It looked nice on him. His hair was cut just to ear length now, his mustache still big but kept clean. His eyes didn't looks so angry all the time nor tired. He had come a long way from the terror he once was, the haunting ghost of his Daddy no longer holding onto his shoulders. But he also had a long way to go yet. He still had problems, would snap as his first instinct before apologizing and trying again. He'd still get too handy when he had too much to drink. But he didn't force himself anymore, didn't use slurs purposely. He did slip up every now and then, but he was trying to learn, to understand why.

And Arthur was beginning to like this new Micah, his lust was there, but his heart was being mended from Mary, from Eliza and Issac. He knew it'd be a long time yet before he could love whole heartedly, but he felt his feelings creeping up on him and Micah together, and he did nothing to stop them.

Arthur looked over at Micah where the man leaned forward on Baylock's saddle. His eyes were squinted as he looked through the windows as best he could. "I have a bad feeling about this and I don't know why." 

Arthur nodded. He couldn't tell what it was that tugged at his heart to not let this one plan go through. Hosea may be excited for this but it gave Arthur a bad feeling too.

Bill had walked down the street then back up to where Arthur and Micah were, leaning against the overhang pole to look casual as he spoke up to Arthur. "Somethin is off and I- well it ain't a good sign, I think." 

"You aren't the only one Bill, both of us don't like this plan either. Somethin don't feel quite right." Arthur took out a cigarette from his front shirt pocket, hearing Micah already grabbing his matches to light Arthur up. It was one of the public intimacies they'd allow themselves. Leaning over to Micah's match Arthur looked right at those eyes as he helped the paper catch and smolder. After a couple puffs he leaned back up. "It ain't good, I'm gonna call it off. This one ain't happenin, at least not this time." Arthur took the cigarette between his thumb and pointer finger, taking it out from between his lips to blow the smoke towards Micah. "Gonna tell Hosea that we didn't feel right. He wont like that I said no, but I don't- it's-" 

"Mhmm, I have the same feeling." Bill chimed in, not letting Arthur stumble for long. 

"Once Dutch and Tilly come out we split and meet back at camp by sundown. Normal procedure if you feel like someone's folloin you." Arthur took another drag, turning his head slightly to see Bill nod, pushing off against the wooden pole. 

"See you back at camp." Bill said, his lope was slow down the sidewalk. 

Micah coughed from beside Arthur, spitting onto the cobblestones with a nasty shocking sound. Arthur scrunched his nose at that, it sounded disgusting but he did know it was better to get it out then swallow snot. 

"I can't believe I allow you near me." Arthur grumbled. 

Micah's laugh was cackling at best, sounded crackly and warm like a fire now that he genuinely laughed. "Yeah well, we've done worse and kissed after." Micah raised his bushy brows. "I don't hear you complain after your red from facial hair burn and you've painted your cot a new colour." 

Arthur's cheeks felt like they began to burn, his mind playing through the few times Micah had gotten him on all fours and had kept his cheeks spread as his tongue and mouth brought Arthur to orgasm. His ass was red and raw for a while due to stubble and Micah's mustache scratching against the crease of his ass. "We'll, you are one to talk, my jaw keeps clicking from the extended lookout job we did a few weeks back. You licked your spill off my chest and chin.  _ And  _ I distinctly remember you complaining every time I kiss you with onion breath. Ain't my fault you can't bear it." 

"I thought this was about you not liking me hacking spit." Micah smirked. 

"It was." Arthur nodded. "Don't mean I can't enjoy some ribbin at your expense too." Arthur gave a sly smile back. He purposely wrapped his lips around the end of his cigarette and gave a hooded eye look to Micah from under his hat brim. He blew the smoke out through his nose after he finished the drag and by extension the cigarette. He tossed it to the cobblestone street before looking towards the bank. 

Tilly was coming out, smiling happily, Dutch had stayed behind to finalize the "account" as Tilly sat on the bench outside and signalled to Arthur that all was going to plan. 

"Well cowpoke," Micah teased, he heaved a sigh as he sat up fully again in his saddle. "I'll see you back in our tent." 

Arthur hummed as he turned his attention back to his lover. "If I don't return tonight, don't wait up all night for me. Go find someone else if you need someone beside you to fall asleep." Arthur wanted badly to lean over and lay a gentle kiss on Micah's lips, give the blond a soft nosing along his jaw. "I'll be back by tomorrow evenin, maybe even bring home some game." 

Micah purred at the thought of Arthur carrying a deer to Pearson, those muscles working in the bayou heat, cotton sticking to back and chest muscles. "I'll see you then Morgan." With that he urged Baylock into a trot back the way he came in, using one hand on the reins as the other patted the horse's neck. 

Arthur watched as Dutch came back out, grinning wide and playing his part. He looked up to Arthur and his smile faltered at the small shake of his head. Arthur could explain later, but for now he had to finish his part and watch as Tilly and Dutch got away without being followed. 


End file.
